SIRENS
by Zancrow
Summary: Bruce / Selina. He was starting to wonder if she was ever going to tell him her name. "I think we're both well past the age of pretending to be animals, Cat…" ((Chapter 03: Chase Me))
1. The Cat and the Claw: Part 1

** SIRENS**

**Rating: **T+

**Pairing: **Bruce/Selina

**Genre: **Romance, Suspense

**Notes:**

Normally I'd wait until the two characters I'm writing about have a chance to meet each other before writing a story about them, but having this idea in my head, I wanted to start writing it before I am influenced by what the show is doing and it stops being what my idea originally started as; which is the relationship between the Cat and Bat if they met when they were younger. Before the crime fighting. Before the costumes.

This is based half on what Gotham is and half on what everyone's expectations of Gotham are.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Gotham.

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><p>The large doors that adorned the front of the manor began to open inwards before the curled up fist could even reach them, causing the person who had been intending on knocking on the door to take a minor step back as if contemplating whether or not the door was automatic. Before he could see his way inside, since an open door is an invitation to enter, he was stopped by the sight of a young boy peering outwards. It was not who he had been expecting to see.<p>

"Bruce!" he exclaimed rather loudly, followed by a soft laugh. "My, my. In all my years coming here; I've never seen a Wayne actually answer his own door. Is everything alright?"

Despite smiling and laughing at his own commentary, all he was met as a response was the young boy's scowl, as Bruce Wayne's eyes narrowed while eyeing him directly. "You hadn't knocked," he stated, his voice low. "I wasn't answering, I was stepping out."

"That makes more sense," another laugh found his way out as the older man tried to look past the young boy and towards the interior of the mansion; hoping to see someone a bit older. At this, he saw as the door proceeded to close itself more. "Hey now," the elder man was quick to speak. "Do you remember who I am?"

"Master Bruce!" another voice echoed through the manor; accompanied by hurried steps heard coming from the staircase. In a matter of moments another man made his way towards the front doors; where he was greeted by the sight of the "master" of the mansion and of a newly arrived "guest". "Master Bruce," this time he spoke a bit more softly. "You don't have to get the door, that's what I'm here for," he stops as he turns towards the visitor. "Sorry about that mate, but thing around here have been… adapting quite a bit, if I say."

"Perfectly understandable," his voice perfectly polite; Bruce's eyes didn't leave his. "I'm so sorry to drop by unannounced, but this is a very, very last minute situation which I found necessary, if only respectful, to come here personally and inform."

"Let him in Alfred," the young master notes, before turning towards the living room. Alfred merely extends his arm as he presents the way; causing the older man to fake a smile and follow through. The way towards the living room, and the living room itself, was impeccable as always; something which the other man found impressive given the lack of personnel aside from the resident sarcastic servant. As they made their way into the living room, the guest took a seat on the couch, with the young master seated across from him, leg crossed over the other and hands held together with fingers intercrossed. He was eyeing him intensely, which became a bit unsettlingly.

"Oh… Erm, yes. Bruce. I know you may not remember me, but I've known you since you were a very small boy. I've been a partner of your father since quite early in the business, even," he speaks as he signals to the portrait of the recently deceased Thomas and Martha Wayne; hanging in the wall just above the currently unlit fireplace.

"I know full well who you are Mr. Earle, and I thank you for the visit. But if it's something as urgent as you implied, would it be rude to ask just what it is?" even before he had asked, he felt a nudge on his shoulder from Alfred, hinting that he was being rude, but Bruce himself had little patience for this man right now. For anyone from that company right now.

"You're really sounding like a Wayne now, always business first, pleasures later. You'll have a good future with us, when you're of age," he paused, before smiling. "Just wanted to hand these to you, personally. Didn't want to make a big show of it tomorrow on the tube."

He handed Alfred a box, which the butler took and gave to Bruce, who in turn quickly proceeded to open it. His face became a bit surprised, but his eyes were down casted as a result. He heard as Alfred muttered towards William Earle that it was a nice detail, but Bruce felt himself slip a bit. "These are…"

"Acknowledgements. For a fine work on our city and our economy. They were to be handled out on tomorrow's big event at the company's little get together, but I thought that it would be best if I just gave them to you," he motioned towards the box. Inside were two golden statues, with the inscription dedicated towards "Thomas" and "Martha". Accompanying the trophies was a sealed envelope; with the words: "Best Citizens" written on the envelope. Bruce traced his finger around the words.

"I'll leave it to you then," William Earle spoke up as he stood, while Alfred motioned towards him and lead him towards the doorway.

As the two elder men reached the doorway, Alfred was quick to speak. "While I appreciate the attention to detail and the thought Mr. Earle, I would be grateful it next time such "surprises" would be given without the boy being present. It hasn't even been a month."

"Oh, I meant no harm Pennyworth," the other responded. "I, no, we felt the boy deserved to receive some acknowledgement of the good his parents did."

"For that, you are correct. And you have my gratitude. But, he must be told if it's something about his parents beforehand. Emotionally, I don't feel he is in the right state to be receiving such news; be they good news or otherwise," Alfred spoke sternly, causing William to eye him briefly. Instead of objecting, the other man smiled and gave a brief bow.

"I apologize Pennyworth," he mentioned. "I will be more… thoughtful if another occurrence allows me to."

"Tis all I ask."

"Very well," William Earle spoke as he shook Alfred's hand, noticing how strong a grip the butler of the house and current legal guardian of the young master had. Thomas' jokes about Alfred's toughness took a new meaning to him now. "I'll leave you two then," he continued, inconspicuously rubbing his right hand. "Hope young Bruce is alright."

"He-"

"I'll go," the sudden voice interrupted what Alfred had attempted to say, causing both men to turn. Walking towards them was Bruce, holding the box in his arms, shut tightly. He walked passed Alfred and reached William, handing the box and its contents to the Wayne employee. As William gave him a confused look, which Alfred shared, Bruce spoke. "I believe you're correct in your assessment that, well, that I do need a reminder of the good my parents did."

"What have I told ya about eavesdropping Master Bruce?"

"Easy, Alfred," Bruce turned towards his butler and parental figure as he spoke. "You two weren't being that quiet to begin with. I could hear you well without having to move."

As Alfred proceeded to shake his head and mutter something to himself; Bruce turned back towards William Earle. "As I was saying, I like to hear about how the good my parents did is still being acknowledged even if they are no longer… well-"

"That they are still inspiring people and helping our community," Alfred cut in, to which Bruce allowed himself a small smile. He responded with a nod towards William, as the older man shifted his view from Bruce, to Alfred, to the box.

"I understand that," he turned back towards Bruce. "But why are you returning it to me? It is rightfully yours."

"Why indeed…"

"Because," Bruce spoke up, ignoring Alfred's input. "I want to go receive it in their name at the event."

"Master Bruce," Alfred quickly spoke, his tone becoming a bit louder. Tugging the young boy by the shoulder, he pulled him from the doorway and towards the living room again. "Mr. Earle, excuse us just a sec."

"Alfred," Bruce spoke up as he entered the living room, waiting until Alfred closed the door. "He can still hear us."

"I bloody know he can, but can you hear yourself?" Alfred's voice was softer, but still ever stern. "You hardly eat, you hardly sleep; you've become obsessed with "conquering fear and pain" so much that you've hurt yourself constantly… I could go on, hoping you can understand me."

"Al-"

"Not done," Alfred placed his index finger near the young boy's lips, causing Bruce to frown but he remained quite nonetheless. "Do you seriously think it would do you well to go to this big event, the first without the presence of the Wayne family, to receive this there? You've never been involved with the company, it's best for you to take those trophies and store them in their honor. You are not taking anything from their accomplishment by not going to pick them up at a televised event."

"I know that," Bruce spoke up, his voice mirroring Alfred's own. "But it seems fair to me. Were mom and dad still alive, they would have been there, getting thanked for all the hard work they've done. And this event doesn't have to be the first without the Wayne family. You've said it yourself; I'm a Wayne. There's still… one left…"

His voice began to crack, but before he could he was wrapped around Alfred's arms, allowing the boy to place his head against the elder man's neck. "Bruce," his voice was now soft, as paternal as Alfred's voice allowed him to. "I understand you. You want to preserve their legacy. What they did. But… you haven't gone out of this house since it happened. Reporters, employees, paparazzi… They're going to storm after you like there's no tomorrow. You don't have to put yourself through that yet."

"I know," Bruce spoke up, his voice muffled since he was so tightly held. "Can we just go, pick up the prize, and leave?"

Alfred sighed, pushing Bruce away in order to make eye contact with him. "You're dead set on this, no?"

The boy nodded.

"Very well," Alfred spoke as he separated himself from Bruce. "We'll go in, pick up the prize, and out we go. I'll just have to fend off anyone who attempts to get something out of you. Shouldn't be too hard… Might as well give the old hunting shotgun some use."

As Bruce gave a soft laugh, Alfred turned towards the door. "Might as well tell good old Mr. Earle that his trip has been for naught."

"He can hear you."

"Mr. Earle. Your trip has been for naught," Alfred spoke louder from the living room, before giving Bruce a light tug and walking towards where their guest waited. Bruce, while still smiling, turned towards the portrait of his parents. They looked younger, given that the painting was one before Martha had given birth to Bruce; and their faces seemed so serene. He could make this one sacrifice and do what his father would have done.

-0-

"Now listen up Master Bruce," Alfred's voice caused him to turn towards the front of the limousine, where his butler was seated as he drove towards the event. It had been the second time Bruce had been inside the automobile since his parents were no longer with him, the first being when Alfred picked him up at the scene of their crime. He had been trying all the way to drown out those thought with heavy rock music at the loudest setting, but Alfred's increasing voice tone finally caught his attention. "Master Bruce!"

"I hear you, what?"

"Remember what we talked about yesterday, and earlier today," he tapped on the window as he spoke, signaling that they had arrived at the scene. Bruce peeked from the window and he saw that only a few people were currently outside, but the parking lot seemed filled out to its max capacity. "We should be arriving at nearly the right time when they announce Mr. and Mrs. Wayne's acknowledgement. So it's a go in, pick it up; you give the little speech we prepared and we walk out. Not a second more, alright."

"Understood."

"Good boy, now let us find a parking spot. We're going in from the back…" as Alfred spoke, Bruce proceeded to shut down his MP3 and store it is his pocket. He hadn't been this well dressed in a while either, with matching black tuxedo attire, proper since he considered himself to be still mourning his parents. He wanted nothing flashy or disrespectful.

As Alfred parked behind the building, with only a few security guards present, he proceeded to exit the vehicle.

"Can we help you sir?" one of the guards approached Alfred as he walked from his door towards where Bruce was at.

"You most certainly can," Alfred spoke up, eyeing the younger man. "I may need to keep this under wraps and get this fellow inside from the back. I'd tell you to find me Mr. Earle, but this one here has equal if not more authority," Alfred opened the door to allow Bruce to exit as he spoke, causing the guard's eyes to bulge.

"Bruce Wayne! I wasn't informed he was coming."

"With good reason," Alfred spoke up. "Can you get us inside?"

The question was more of a command, one that the guard followed to an expertise. Within moments, Bruce found himself and Alfred being led by the guards towards a stairwell, followed by being entered by a doorway at the back of the building and into the interior. From the inside he could hear the noise, the laughter, the talking. The smell of champagne and flowers filled the area; while a soft beat music got louder with each step he took towards where they were leading them.

The place seemed fancy enough, though the back hallways were not as decorated as he suspected the main party area to be. This whole building was, as Alfred explained, just a rentable building that the Wayne Industries rented often for company events, such as this. What caught his eye mostly; however, were the many black ribbons which adorned the many halls, even this far back. He felt a little something in his chest, like a minor stab, but felt it adequate. The mere idea of the company throwing a party, with the laughter, the music, so soon didn't sit right with him. At least, these details meant someone missed his parents. Someone took the time to address their passing. Bruce made a mental note to ask who did this; they deserved a raise.

"I'll inform Mr. Earle, feel free to await here and do as you see fit."

"Thanks," Alfred mentioned as the security guard walked from the room they had been left at, possibly towards the main room where Earle was undoubtedly at. "Now, we wait," Alfred continued, directed at Bruce. "Once we get our cue, we walk up, you give your three sentence speech, and we walk. Possibly the same way we came."

"Got it," Bruce spoke, looking around. He had already memorized the plan. Only make their presence known when they were called up. Not to answer a single question; and only to deliver the speech he and Alfred had come up with. They had written the speech on an index card, carefully tugged away in the left side pocket of his coat.

His coat.

He had left his coat on the limousine.

His eyes widened a bit as he felt like smacking himself. He had made the effort not to miss a single detail from their plan, but he left the speech. He thought about trying to say it from memory, it wasn't too much written on it, but should he risk it? If he were to stutter or to pause, it could give room for anyone to interrupt or interpret it the wrong way. He had to act it professionally, genuine. And he couldn't tell Alfred this.

Alfred had made it clear he didn't like this idea. If he had to go back to the limousine, he could probably take it as an excuse to leave.

'No,' Bruce thought to himself. He couldn't let fear take over him again, not out of something this trivial. He memorized the way from where they are to where the limousine was parked. He remembered how he had not locked the door he had used, having been a bit taken aback by the nervousness of arriving. He could quickly go out, get his coat, and go back in before they were called in. Just needed an excuse.

"I need to use the bathroom," Bruce exclaimed, causing Alfred to turn towards the younger boy.

"Bathroom? Didn't ya use it before we left?"

"I'm a little nervous. Don't want to leak up there, you know?"

"…I don't know where-"

"I saw one on the way, I'll be right back," Bruce turned around and walked towards where they were brought in.

"Oi, hold up there Master Bruce," Alfred went after him as he spoke. "Alone you're not going. Don't want to cause a scene on the off-chance someone from the Gotham Gazette decides to use the throne."

"Alfred, please," Bruce turned and narrowed his eyes. "No one from the party is going to come all this way back to use the bathroom. This place has like eight different bathrooms closer to the main room than the one I saw back here. It's probably for the staff or something. A-And it was unlocked, since the door was ajar."

"But-"

"No buts," Bruce interrupted. "I need you here if they call us up. Just tell them I'll be a minute, two tops."

Alfred sighed. While it was true he wanted the young master to display more independence; going along with his late father's wishes, but sometimes he wished the young boy would be a bit more prepared when it came to this situations. With all the preparation time they had, he had hoped he would not have to be forced to deviate from plan at all. But, nature calls he supposed. "Fine, two minutes. One second longer and I'm coming after you."

"Got it!" with that said, Bruce ran out of the room, heading directly through the way they were lead in. A right; followed by another right; then walk up straight before turning one left. Following his mental instructions, he quickly found himself outside again. He moved towards the limousine, careful not to be spotted by any of the guards, before reaching the door he had been led out of. Opening it carefully not to make a sound, he quickly grabbed the coat and pulled… before he found himself unable to get it out. Was it stuck?

"Hey!" a shout was heard, but what scared Bruce the most was that it came from the inside of the limousine. "Find your own ride, I was here first!"

Bruce's eyes widened as he contemplated what he saw. His coat was caught up by a young girl, dressed in all black, with equally dark hair. She was currently laying across were he had been sitting before, on top of his coat, her arms curled and her fingernails pointed at him. Her eyes seemed to be almost glowing.

"Keep staring and you're going to lose those eyes," the girl spoke up, causing Bruce to come back to. He supposed he was asking for something like this by leaving the limousine unlocked in a city like Gotham, guards or no guards.

"Get out of my car," he spoke up, sternly. Ignoring the fact that it wasn't a car, he wasn't going to let someone, anyone, get inside. Who knows what she'd do. "Or I'm calling the guards."

"Oh no, that'd be new… Say," she stopped, eyeing the boy. "Hey! You're Bruce Wayne. I knew this fancy thing would belong to a big shot at the Wayne Company, but I didn't think it would be yours."

"And you are?" he knew most people, even thieves, would know his name or who he was; but she seemed cheery about it.

"My name's Cat."

"Cat? Like the animal?"

"No, Cat like the reporter. Of course the animal," she sat up, stretching her limbs as she did. "Guess your kicking me out, huh? Pity, this ride's pretty comfy. Beats sleeping at the station, or juvie, ick."

He was having a little hard time following this girl's, Cat's as she said, line of conversation. She seemed pretty catlike in that respect at least, the way she moved and the way she fixed her hair with her palm instead of her fingers. "Even if you are Bruce Wayne, keep staring and you're going to lose your eyes."

"I'm not staring!" he lied. "I'm waiting for you to get out."

"Mean."

"Master Bruce!"

If the cat-girl had made any attempt to actually get out of the limousine, she quickly darted back inside when she heard the older man yelling. Bruce's complexion turned pale, realizing he had probably been outside far more than the allowed two minutes. He turned to face the girl, as she shook her head and motioned him not to reveal her. He then turned to face an incoming angry Alfred.

"Just what the bloody hell did we talk about! I was very clear when I said we pick up the trophies, and leave. Or would ya rather leave now?" as Alfred approached, Bruce quickly shut the door between him and the girl.

"Sorry," he quickly replied. "At the bathroom I noticed that I left my coat out here, and in it was the speech. I didn't want to make you regret taking me here if I diverted from what we planned, so I tried to get it back quickly…" he spoke up. He was surprised how what he had originally tried to avoid Alfred finding out, save the bathroom part, was now a better cover up than the invading girl in the limousine. Which he found surprising as to why he was even helping her in the first place.

Alfred stopped a few steps from him, contemplating. "For what it's worth, this part of the parking is rather empty; but do this again and I won't follow any more of your little ideas, am I clear?"

"Clear as day."

"Good, grab the coat. It's our turn."

"Oh, right," he spoke as he opened the door, trying to avoid Alfred looking inside. He quickly placed his hand inside of the coat's pocket, earning him a glare from the girl as she watched where his hand was going, and pulled the index card out. "Got it right here."

"And the coat?"

"Don't need it, just the speech. It's not too cold out here right now," he was lying, it was cold. But he didn't think he could pull the coat out without having her move which would undoubtedly cause Alfred to notice something amiss. So he placed the index card in his pant pocket, before shutting the door tightly and walking towards the back entrance. "Let's go Alfred, let's get this over with."

As Alfred followed, the two of them made their way into the back entrance, leaving the girl alone as she stared at the roof of the limousine. Her light green eyes flickered as she contemplated what to do. She had had every intention of meeting the young heir to the Wayne family, but not right now. Still, she smiled, since he was probably the most interesting person she could meet in Gotham right now… And he was going to give a speech of some sort. She couldn't miss that.

And out of the car she went, being careful to lock every door as she did. This was Gotham after all.

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><p>The Author Rants About:<p>

AU

As in, whether this classifies as AU or not. After only two episodes in, we hardly know anything about either Bruce or Selina to be able to write correctly about them. The result could be them getting too much out-of-character and I normally don't like that. Then again, in my defense, Gotham is based on the Batman mythos. 75-plus years of characterization and storylines to choose from, so I can't be too far off if I base them around other similar portrayals.

Bruce Wayne seems like a mix between his Batman Begins persona, similar childhood and the prominent fear element; mixed with Batman The Animated Series character who even as Bruce Wayne he was a more caring and helpful individual; as opposed to other portrayals where the Bruce Wayne persona is just an overacted playboy.

Selina Kyle dresses similar to the Tim Burton's version, helped with the fact that Camren Bicondova looks very similar to Michelle Pfeffier. Add to that a cat-burglar attitude like Anne Hathaway from The Dark Knight Rises and her catlike mannerisms from both the Animated Series and the Adam West TV Series; and you got this version of her.

All in all, I'll keep the characters as IC as I can; giving them closer characterizations to Gotham canon as more episodes come out and their characters are expanded upon. Until then, hope you all enjoy this simple story.


	2. The Cat and the Claw: Part 2

** SIRENS**

**Rating: **T+

**Pairing: **Bruce/Selina

**Genre: **Romance, Suspense

**Notes:**

I'm honestly surprised by two things. One, how much positive feedback I got from this; which I thank you all exceedingly for. And, two, that as of yet Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle have yet to meet in Gotham. Sure, she watches him sleeping (stalker-ish much?), but they haven't spoken a word yet. So, riddle me this: When is a story based on a story based on a story not a story? Simple: Fanfiction.

This is based half on what Gotham is and half on what everyone's expectations of Gotham are.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Gotham.

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><p>The smell of alcohol accompanied by the loud music, the improperly dressed "dancers" and the presence of news reporters everywhere made the aspect of mourning for the dearly departed Wayne's seem like an afterthought. Sure, if you looked well enough; squinted and turned your head to the side you could see their portrait in the middle of the furthest wall, next to a few vases of fresh roses. That little detail, alongside a few black ribbons here and there were the only indication that a tragedy had taken place a little over a month ago.<p>

Most people didn't even notice; since the allure of partying, dinning and drinking where all much too prominent to be focusing on the dearly departed.

Most people weren't like James Gordon.

"I feel dirty just being here," the young policeman spoke up, taking a sip from his water bottle, which the bartender gave to him with a funny look upon being asked for such. He was still on the job, per say, so he wouldn't drink right now.

"You'll get used to it," was his partner's response. Said partner had apparently taking responsibility for Jim and had taken it upon himself to drink for both of them. Harvey Bullock was currently sipping the last drops on his fourth glass. "But seriously, grab some champagne or something; you look like some poor sap carrying that around."

"This hydrates me; I'm not going to drink."

"Stop being such a smartass and get with the times. This is a party!" as Harvey spoke, they could both feel as the music shifted from a fast beat to a slower pace, signaling that the awards were soon going to be handed out and the announcements regarding the company's future were going to be made. At this Harvey just grabbed another glass. "These rich fellas and their announcements, so paranoid that they need us here. But hey, open bar."

"This is Gotham, after all," as Jim spoke; he saw a familiar sight, which caused him to wave to get noticed. Before Harvey could ask, they both were approached by a young blonde woman. "Barbara, I thought you weren't going to come."

"I wasn't, until I got a call to bring a few of my exhibits here; seems they caught the eye of one of these big shots here," as she finished, she turned to Harvey with a soft smile, waiting.

"Oh, sorry about that. Babs, this is Harvey Bullock, my partner at the force," after the introduction, Harvey removed his fedora and gave a light bow, to which Barbara gave a soft chuckle. "And Harvey, this is my girl, Barbara."

"Fiancée," Barbara quickly corrected, which earned herself a smile from Harvey.

"I am honestly dumbstruck by this my dear," Harvey spoke up, eyeing her before turning to Jim. "This guy here was always so determined to play the hero that I honestly felt he had come out of a comic or something, but seeing just who he's going to marry, maybe little Jimmy here just likes to play the hero to impress his little lady?"

"Harvey, I don't do-"

"Impress me he has," Barbara interrupted, holding Jim by the arm. "Enough to consider marrying him. And if you've been his partner you know how stubborn this guy can be."

"Like a mule."

"Very much so."

"I see you two get along quite well with me as the target."

At this, Barbara gave her future husband a light peck on the lips, smiling at him before turning back to Harvey. "It's a pleasure to meet you Harvey, I do hope Jim doesn't give you too much trouble," as she said this, Harvey just got a funny look on his face, but he didn't say anything. "And I know you two are on duty, but could I borrow him for just a little bit? I promise I'll bring him right back."

"Go right ahead, you don't need to ask me. I know it's a hard choice for Jim to choose between you and me, but I won't make it any harder. You go with her Jim, I understand."

"Thanks for understanding," Jim spoke between laughs, moving alongside Barbara. "I'll come right back."

"You'll know where to find me."

"The bar," Jim concluded.

"The bar," Harvey confirmed.

As the couple walked away from an already alcohol-depraved Bullock, Jim turned to face his cheerier-than-usual bride-to-be. "You seem in high spirits, I'm actually surprised and happy to see you like this."

"I just needed to get out of the house, I felt like I've been crocked up in there for way too long… Besides, if I can do some business with the high executives of Wayne Enterprise it could bode well for both of us."

He smiled as he pulled her hand towards him, giving it a soft kiss. "Sounds good, and what did you want to "borrow" me for?"

"I received I call from Roger, could you take one, maybe two minutes and call him back? It's good news."

Jim just gave her a puzzled look, but before he could answer the music came to a halt, as only a soft melody was left as the previously imperceptible murmurs of the guests now loudly distracted from anything else. Said voices slowly began to lower in tone as a well-dressed middle-aged man made his way onto the "stage" that had been prepared.

"Is that William Earle?" Barbara asked Jim, earning herself a soft shake from his head.

"Him? No, Earle's probably waiting for an introduction to walk in. I've seen Earle before; he's fulsome so say the least," Jim remembered the press conference Earle had made after the Wayne's murder, which both he and Harvey had attended to get a word with the high-ups of Wayne Enterprise. Something about Earle had just rubbed Jim the wrong way, but then again most people in Gotham did. "That," he continued, since Barbara had asked. "I think, is Lucius Fox."

"Oh, another big-shot," at this, Jim only nodded.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Lucius spoke up, the commanding tone of his voice giving little doubt as to why he was chosen to start the event. "…And welcome one and all to this year's Wayne Enterprise's little get together. While we've been though some hard times, I'll take this opportunity to show my respects to the late Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne, whose legacy and efforts have allowed us all to be where we are today, and whose dreams of a better way of life for our Gotham City have yet not died… Not on our watch."

As Lucius Fox spoke, Bruce was watching from the back, his ears focused on what the man was saying. "You know Master Bruce," Alfred's voice cut in, causing the young master to turn. "If, when you're a bit older, you feel the need to learn anything about Wayne Enterprise I'd recommend seeking that man out. Lucius Fox is a most truth worthy individual."

"I can tell," Bruce turned his attention back to Fox. "He's dressed in a simple black and white tuxedo, no fancy jewelry or bright colors. Outside you and me Alfred, he's the only one here that seems to be mourning my parents' death. The only other one showing some respect."

"That just might as well be…"

Bruce and Alfred remained behind the scene as Lucius introduced William Earle onto the stage, as the latter took over. Earle took his time speaking about the company, about their plans, a little about the Wayne's and a lot about how they had influenced him on a personal and professional level. He also mentioned a few projects here and there, and assured the audience that even the heightened crime levels of Gotham would not affect their plans, which if done correctly, could create a new era of peace over the crime-infested city. As he spoke all this, neither Bruce nor Jim actually heard any actual realistic plan that could make this a reality. Everything was long-term promises, without any concrete facts.

It wasn't until Bruce heard his name being called that he stopped thinking about that and proceeded to go alongside Alfred onto the stage. As he came into view of all of the guests either sitting at their tables or standing in groups near the walls; he felt a bit pressured by the sheer silence that had befallen the place. Everyone was quiet, and only the background symphony could be heard as each step Bruce took echoed throughout the area. A few more simple steps and he was in the middle, all eyes on him.

His father's words echoed through him. _'Don't be afraid Bruce,' _his father used to say, every time he would feel scared. _'It's okay. It's okay.'_

A deep breath, followed by a straightening of his shoulders and posture.

"Evening everyone," Bruce acknowledged and greeted upon reaching a now lowered microphone, courtesy of William Earle. Alfred stood a few steps behind him, eyeing everyone in the room at once. A few murmurs here and there could be heard as he greeted everyone, mostly at the surprise of seeing him up and about so "soon". "I'm here on behalf of my parents, Mr. Thomas and Martha Wayne; although I presume you all know that."

A soft chuckle echoed throughout the building area, whereupon William Earle spoke through a wireless microphone he had apparently hidden under his coat. "Quite sure we do Bruce. And as I was saying, we here of Wayne Enterprise wish to show you, show everyone just how highly we appreciate everything Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne did for us all. For this reason above all, Wayne Enterprise wishes to give you our "Best Citizen" award on behalf of the admirable work on Gotham City that both Thomas and Martha Wayne have done as both entrepreneurs and as philanthropists. Just a little detail that we all dearly wished they were here to receive in person; but whose work will never perish and will never ever be forgotten."

As Earle handed Bruce the two awards, the scripted event going down as was predicted, the crowd gave a cheer and applauded the young Wayne. Alfred was observing everything, only giving a small nod of acknowledgement when Bruce eyed him as he took the awards. At this Earle proceeded to stand before the guests, but before he could continue whatever speech he had next in line, Bruce cut in.

"I would like to add to what William Earle just said, if I may," as Bruce eyed Earle, the elder man looked a bit baffled, but nodded nonetheless. Alfred looked less baffled and more as if expecting something like this, but he said nothing. In truth he had wanted to get Bruce out more, but he didn't really feel this was the best way. Regardless, he just looked on. "My parents… didn't believe in this city."

Earle's expression took a sudden shift that he resembled a caricature, as everyone in the room eyed each other upon that statement. Most people went silent, aside from someone giving a soft laugh from out back which Jim could swear was Harvey.

The only other person who seemed more bemused at the comment rather than dumbfounded was a certain young girl who was sitting on a chair near one of the walls, legs crossed and cat-like eyes narrowed at Bruce's direction. She just found him funny-looking standing there all important-like when he was a brat like all the rest.

"Bruce," William Earle cut in, speaking away from the microphones, to the boy's ear. "That really goes against-"

But Bruce motioned to him not to stop him, before continuing. "Sorry, that sounded wrong. But I guess I meant to say it like that. My parents didn't believe in the city, because a city can't be good or bad. A city is what we make it. My parents believed, until their last breath, in the people in this city. They did everything they did, because they understood that if you help those less fortunate, those helped will in turn help others in need, creating a chain of goodwill that keeps on giving. They believed in all of you."

Reactions were mixed. Some smiled, a few genuinely and others in mere politeness. Others were a bit taken back; somewhere amused by his words but though him just oversimplifying or exaggerating; while a few deemed him "cute".

"Now that's-"

"In fact, my father's last words," Bruce interrupted Earle. "Were not hatred or fear against his killer, but merely stating to him that "we're cooperating", believing deep down that that would-be robber would just take the money and leave his family unharmed. Believing in the better nature of even the worst among us…" he stopped, his voice wavering a bit. "…And I still believe in people like that. That may parents, as well deserving as they are for this, are not the only ones that do. I too believe in the people of Gotham."

A massive round of applause followed his speech, with Jim and Barbara giving the young boy a few cheers for added appeal. Even Harvey could be heard cheering, while Earle reluctantly joined in the applauding. Alfred gave the boy a warm smile and placed his hands upon his shoulders, as Bruce grabbed one of Alfred's hands. With Earle's center of attention taken from him, he was forced to give a brief comment on Bruce's statements; followed by bringing the music back on full swing.

"Thanks Alfred."

"Nonsense Master Wayne, that was a beautiful speech you made," Alfred spoke as he brushed Bruce's hair slightly with his fingers. "Most notably the fact that not once did you even peek at the index card you went outside to find."

"Ah… I memorized it," Bruce smiled at his own comment, while Alfred just raised an eyebrow and stared.

"Ingenious. So… shall we go now?"

"Just a few more minutes Alfred, there's someone I should at least greet," Bruce signaled to Jim as he spoke, while Alfred nodded.

Both Jim and Barbara smiled as Bruce and Alfred approached them, with Jim being quick to speak. "That was quite the speech there Bruce."

"Meant every word," the young boy greeted, turning to Barbara. "Bruce Wayne."

As Bruce extended his hand, Barbara took it and gave a soft shake. She was taken aback when the young boy proceeded to place her hand upon his lips and give it a soft kiss. "You must be the future Mrs. Gordon. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"…Charmed, honestly so," Barbara failed to hold back her wide smile, half surprised by his actions, half wanting to hug him for being so cute. "And it's very good to meet you Bruce; nice to see someone is still looking out for Gotham. Makes me feel safer letting Jim here go out there."

Bruce looked on as James shook Alfred's hand, before he proceeded to introduce him to Barbara and vice versa. As the four spoke, Bruce felt someone eyeing him, which shouldn't really surprise him. The last living Wayne at a Wayne Enterprise's get-together was certainly an attention-grabber, but this feeling felt different. It took him a bit until his eyes met with another pair of eyes which he instantly recognized. At this, he was quick to move. "Excuse me, I'll be back briefly."

"Master Wayne," Alfred's strict tone stopped him. "Last time you said so, you went outside, be best if you stayed close, somewhere I can see you lad."

If Jim or Barbara thought of something, they kept it to themselves, but Bruce merely nodded to Alfred. "Don't worry, just saw a friend. I'm asking her for a dance."

With this he left the three of them, with Barbara's eyes widening as she turned towards her fiancé. "How old is that boy?"

"Old enough it seems," Jim looked at Bruce as he moved towards where everyone else as at. "It's good to know he has a few friends he can enjoy himself with, didn't know he had any young ladies around here."

"Frankly, neither did I," Alfred mentioned, causing Jim to look surprised.

"You don't know his friends?"

"I know a few, the few he has. Milady Julie and Milady Rachel are young girls he has been rather closed to, but Rachel moved away about a year or so ago, and I don't think Julie Madison is here…"

"Boys will be boys, it's nothing wrong," Barbara spoke to them, before turning to Alfred. "But I'd be on the look-out for that one. He's a real charmer."

-0-

"Dance with me."

It wasn't a question, despite the fact that he had extended his hand to her and was waiting for her to respond. At this she eyed him, wondering whether or not it was time for her to escape these "party" or if she should stick around and humor him. Seeing his expression, he was composed and not really nervous, she sighed and took his hand. It was the least she could do for him not ratting her out to his butler. In the streets, loyalty was hard to find.

"Didn't take you for a dancer."

"All of us rich guys are, we pay for dancing classes."

"Must be nice, throwing away money for something so… unimportant," as she spoke, Bruce eyed her, careful not to linger too much lest he risk losing his eyes. But this was the same girl that had been in his limousine, wearing a type of black leather jacket and pants attire. That couldn't be the same girl he was dancing with now, wearing a black glimmering dress which seemed to sparkle as she moved; coupled with a pair of gold earrings with ruby red tips. She even had light make-up on, which she didn't have before.

"You're quick to change," he spoke up, eyes back against hers. "If I wager that what you're wearing isn't yours, what do I win?"

"What are you implying?" her tone easily rivaled any of the high society women at the event. "That I snuck in and savagely beat up a drunken bimbo for her dress and jewelry? Please…"

It was the first time Bruce felt he needed an adult. She quickly chuckled at that, and proceeded to begin to dance with him. Much to his surprise, she was a very good dancer. Her left arm went around his neck, while she interlocked fingers with him with her right hand. He placed his other arm against her waist, and the begun their ballad.

Both moving in unison, dancing around the room as everyone danced and moved about. They quickly got the attention from a few people, some of which even took a few not-so-subtle pictures of the two. As they moved across the floor, she kept her face adorned with a bright smile. So happy, so practiced. Bruce knew that all too well.

"Why are you here?"

A shift of posture, their hands changed positions, left becoming right and vice versa.

"Enjoying the sights, that was quite a speech you gave there. You really are a sheltered little boy…"

They turned again, twirling and moving as the music increased its flow.

"So you're a narcissist I presume. One who only sees the dark night instead of the incoming dawn?"

They separated, only joined by three interlocked fingers.

"Big words. Where'd you read them? I am realistic, if you must know. You can't really know what Gotham is like from your castle."

They got together again, his arm tugging her a bit closer this time.

"I've seen darkness. If you know anything about me, you can figure out what it was."

He gave her a twirl, spinning her around like he saw his father do to his mother many times before.

"And I live in it daily. That little glimpse you saw, it's my life. I'm smart enough to know there is no future or hope for this place; not for people like me."

Another pull; and they're face to face.

"…There's always hope. I can help, Cat, was it?"

"Yeah," she separated herself from him, before he held her by the arm.

"At least tell me your real name."

"Cat is a real name," she raised her tone a bit, sending out brief but impacting message of "our dance just ended and if you don't let me go you'll be sorry" or something similar to it.

"So is Doug, but I don't buy that it's your real name. You act like a cat, for sure, but it would be too much of a coincidence to be your actual name," he still held unto her, but lessened his grip. She at least took the gesture in good will since she had yet to smack him.

"Cat's all you'll get. Now, if you don't mind…"

He let her go.

"…Thank you," she finished.

"But don't go," she eyed him as he practically pleaded. He heard himself as well, so he straightened a bit and tried again. "And by that I mean don't just run away, like I feel you're going to. Sit down with me for a minute."

She was laughing after he finished. "Listen kid, if you're starting to crush on me, let me tell you you are so barking up the wrong tree in ways you have no-"

"I wouldn't be so sure," he spoke up as he took a seat on a nearby table, while motioning her to take a seat next to him. At this, she felt a surge of boiling pressure build up inside her. He was smiling, so sure that she would do as told that he had already laid himself back. The nerve this kid had, and he looked even younger than her.

"Fine, I'll humor you," she began to hate herself for falling into that trick, but he was an interesting boy. Besides, she still had time. "So what do you want to talk about?"

As she took her seat, Bruce eyed her before speaking. "Why do you steal?"

She seemed taken aback.

"What a moronic question."

"Care to explain, I'm not discriminating against you for it, I just want to know why you do it?" as he explained, she couldn't tell if he was serious or not. He sounded serious, he looked serious, but who could even bother to ask someone why they do the illegal things they do when they are pretty self-explicatory.

"To live, why else?"

"To live? As in, you steal what you need in order to survive?"

"That's what I said."

"So, that dress, you needed it to survive?" as he spoke, she felt herself wanting to cut his eyes off and shove them down his throat.

"I needed it to get in here," as she answered him, he held back a smile. It was the first time he could make her fluster a bit, and he liked doing so.

"Did you need to be here? Would you have died if you didn't get in here?"

"I'm starting to hate you."

"So… you like me?" her expression was priceless to him, as she let out a silent laugh, all visible with her expression, as she shifted her gaze across the room before returning it back to him. As this, he allowed himself to smile.

She crossed her arms, pulling herself back as she rested her back against the chair, legs equally crossed. "Why the sudden interest in me?"

"I just want to know more about the people in Gotham that feel the need to break the law, just to know about what goes through their heads, if, if the justify it or not, stuff like that. I don't want to sound mean or anything, so it's hard to explain," he answered honestly, ignoring the fact that she had changed the subject.

"You want to study the criminal mind, is it?"

"You could say it like that."

"Word of advice," she spoke, as she edged closer to him. He did the same, leaving them both mere inches from each other. "Don't."

"W-What? I'm not going to become a criminal."

"And that's why. You're not one of us; you'll never be like us. A rich kid like you, paying for dancing instructions, having a butler to iron your underwear-"

"Underwear doesn't need ironing."

"And you even know that, yeah, that'll get you far in life," she stood up, as he stopped himself from doing the same. Anymore pestering on his part and he'll seem like an obsessed stalker. Not that he had invited her in or anything, since she never answered him as to why she was at the party. For all he knew, she had gotten in here to steal.

"I just thought that if I knew a little bit about how thieves think-"

She wasn't listening, she was walking away. He threw himself back against the chair, covering his eyes with his hands. "…maybe I'd be able to find that bastard."

He wasn't thinking clearly, he should be able to know that. What had he even been expecting her to say? How could she help him? If he ever wanted to get the actual man responsible for his parent's murder, he would have to find another way. And as hard as it was, Jim Gordon was probably his best bet. Not some thief who called herself "Cat".

As he rubbed his eyes and looked at the other guests, his sight was covered by a pair of familiar eyes.

"I thought you left!" he spoke, startled.

"You actually want to find the guy?" Cat asked, a few inches from him. She had thrown him off-balance thanks to her sudden return, which did not bode well with him.

"Of course, he can't get away with it. I want to confront him."

"You want revenge?"

"Justice."

"Big words," she moved around him, her hands going from his shoulder, across his back onto the other shoulder, causing him to stiffen. "Meet me at that place where that bastard shot your folks, which they are now dubbing "Crime Alley" or something. Be there at around three-forty-five in the morning; and I'll show you a little about how the other ninety-nine percent lives."

As she moved, she lifted her hand from his shoulder and pinched his cheek, nudging it a bit before walking away, leaving a stunned Bruce behind. He processed what she had said, what it meant. Alfred would never in a hundred years allow him to go out alone at night, much less to that spot, much even less to meet up with such a shady girl. The only other option was to sneak out, walk all the way from the mansion to that alley, meet up with her, and then go back before morning came and Alfred noticed.

He couldn't possibly do it; no matter how much he wanted to.

So Bruce stood up, before his eyes widened as he motioned around, looking at himself, then at the table, and lastly at the floor. All he could see was some people still dancing; a few others were drinking; and Alfred walking towards him. Neither of those things worried him at the moment…

…as he no longer had his phone or wallet.

* * *

><p>The Author Rants About:<p>

Bruce Wayne

This version of him to be exact. While he is based as In-Character as I can manage to the Gotham version of Bruce Wayne, the kid hasn't actually appeared too much. And more than that, he really hasn't interacted with anyone outside of Alfred or Gordon. We hardly even saw him interact with his parents, only a few words about the movie they were seeing (probably "The Mark of Zorro", in my story it will be a remake of the original, not Antonio Bandera), and nothing else. I know they're just holding him back, since I adore the show even if it has had a few weak offerings, but it does make it a bit hard to write about. Regardless, David Mazouz is a brilliant actor, and I hope they give him more to do. Hell, I'd be happy to see him in a flashback sequence in BvS, but that's just me dreaming.

Anyways, this version of the character is based on Mazouz's portrayal, mixed in with Batman Begins' version of Bruce. He's a young boy who lost so much in such a sudden way, and he wants to know more about the criminal underworld and how it works. He's interest in Selina is half what he says (she's a thief who he can at least relate to) and half _another_ interest (because he is Batman and she is Catwoman). How will this all turn out, more to come next chapter!

* * *

><p>The Author Responds To:<p>

1. East Coast Captain: Thanks, and so do I. The reason I made this is because I believe they will take a different route to the baby-bat/baby-cat relationship than I will, hence the fic. But surely, Gotham did not cast these two, at the same time mind you, without having the plans to use them. Heck, the video they put up: "The Bat, The Cat and Gordon" seems to imply this very thing… With Gordon as a third wheel.

2. Solvdrage: Thank you, and I do hope I have not disappointed you.

3. Guest (#1): Thanks a lot, and I do plan to write more. A lot more. This is going to be a long story. Hopefully!

4. darthmatthew: I'm so glad you did. Hope you enjoy this one too.

5. TiffanyRance: I'm happy you did!

6. IvyMoore: Thank you for the compliments. And I do intend to write more. Way more.

7. non guest: Love you for saying so.

8. Guest (#2): Thanks, hope you like the update.

9. LisMaknae: When it comes to writing their interactions, it just writes itself. When it's just Bruce or Alfred or Jim, I'm like pausing every few minutes. When both the Bat and the Cat are interacting, my hands won't stop typing!

10. Guest (#3): Thank you, and I will continue this for quite a bit.

11. Mattia18: Hopefully I have not failed your expectations, since now there's an actual plot to move forwards to.

12. Mireilles3: Thanks! Their first meeting was based on all these comics that Batman would return to the Batmobile and (surprise!) Catwoman was inside waiting for him. I just thought it be funny and cute. And hopefully I'll be able to keep their characterizations as IC as possible.

13. GeekGirl330: And I hope you'll keep reading. Thank you so much for the kind words. Means a lot.

14. adam anellaer: Well, you've found at least one! And I know Gotham has yet to get the following it deserves, but at least it's getting noticed. I made this fic with the intention to be able to satisfy that little craving I myself had of seeing a much younger Bruce and Selina interacting, before the capes, cowls or whips (especially the whips); where the two could actually help shape each other into what they are set to become. And believe me, in Gotham, it will be very hard for them not to know more about each other when the inevitable happens. This version of them is the closest origins I've ever seen! So, as genuine as I can make my writing seem, thanks for the support.

15. AdolescentPrimordial: Glad you do. And I'm not sure how Alfred would feel about Bruce bringing home a "stray", if you will. Not that that would discourage Bruce in the slightest, so…


	3. Chase Me

**Rating:** T+

**Pairing:** Bruce/Selina

**Genre:** Romance, Suspense

**Notes:**

So sorry for the tardiness of this update, given the fact that half of it was written before episode nine "Harvey Dent" even aired I had hoped to post it a lot sooner. Unfortunately, my old laptop died; and a new one was needed.

But on to the good news, it's Christmas! So happy holidays to everyone, regardless of what you celebrate, just enjoy yourselves and be safe.

As for this chapter, I do consider this the "true" start of the story (plot); with the last two chapters being more of a prolonged prologue. Here, I'll start to move the story of the orphaned millionaire with a heavy interest in the criminal mind trying to understand his not-obsession with a street kid turned expert thief who also seems to have taken an interest in him. Given that this is Gotham, there are far more players involved in this than either realize, but that's for later.

Anyways, thank you all for the support, and for the very (and I mean VERY) kind and constructive reviews. As one fan to others; I'm glad we can all enjoy this and I hope to continue entertaining you with much more (in much quicker updates, hopefully). Read on!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Gotham.

* * *

><p>When Alfred retired for the night, Bruce felt the older man suspected something was amiss. Alfred didn't voice it, not on the ride home, not during supper and not during their nightly ritual before bed. They spoke about the party, about Bruce's parents and about his dance partner; whom Alfred inquired about a bit too much, but of whom Bruce evaded giving much away. As Alfred went to sleep, he lectured Bruce yet again about spending so much time in the study ("I know it may come to you as a surprise, but we do have more rooms in this mansion, I'll have you know") to which Bruce just smile and nodded. Once his legal guardian went away, Bruce stopped pretending to be getting ready for bed.<p>

He waited.

Waited until he heard Alfred shut his door and until the lights in his room were turned off. He waited even further after that, hoping the day had tired the butler out so much that he would not shake or stir until dawn broke. Alfred would normally clock in 7 hours of sleep on an average, and given that they had gone to bed later than usual today (the clock read: 1:44 am at the moment Alfred shut the door); Bruce hoped that he would stay asleep at least until 6 when he usually got up to greet the first shift of workers and to prepare breakfast. It wasn't much, but it was his only window of opportunity.

Cat's voice echoed in his mind.

"_Be there at around three-forty-five in the morning; and I'll show you a little about how the other ninety-nine percent lives."_

The clock currently displayed that it was 2:00 in the morning; which was good given that it should take him over an hour to reach "Crime Alley" on foot.

-0-

The night was cold, that much was certain. She considered herself used to the hardships of living out on the streets, of sleeping in empty and at the same time crowded buildings with broken windows that did not keep the cold air out. She was used to sleeping more on the day than during the night as well, since during the night it was easier to _earn_ a living as she did and during the day you could actually get some sleep without having to keep one eye open. Well, _some_ sleep.

So, taking all that into consideration, she could even begin to describe how stupid she felt at being sitting on a fire escape and nearly three-thirty in the morning, actually waiting for a pampered rich boy to appear. She knew better than that. Once the little runt found out she took his wallet, phone, watch and gum (form his person) as well as about two dollars and forty cents in pocket change (from his limousine) he was going to flip out, cry for his doorman (or was it butler?), probably call the cops and have them search for her. And he would get nowhere.

Unless of course he actually believed her and he told them she would be here, which they in turn (given that he was rich, so even the corrupted would move for that reason alone) would find her. Why? Because she was actually where she had told him she would be at! It was these moments that she honestly surprised herself on how long she had lasted on these streets.

Getting up, she scoffed at her own thoughts, and begun to climb down. She had better try and make at least $125 before five in the morning or she would be short for the day.

"You're actually here…"

She froze.

His voice was broken. He sounded out of air, tired and surprised at the same time. He seemed surprise she was there; a credible argument as she was just as surprised at seeing him here. "Y-You actually came?"

"You sort-of took my phone with you, and my wallet. I think my watch too."

"I already ate the gum…"

"…I had gum?"

He was still out of breath, and she wouldn't be surprised if he fainted dead away at any given moment. He was way too skinny and way too pale to actually indicate he exercised at all. "Wait," she spoke, studying him. "You didn't walk all the way here, right? From your house?"

"Yeah, check your-my watch," he paused for breath. "I took one hour and forty minutes to get here," and again. "It's three-forty-five right now, right?"

"Actually…" she eyed the watch, and it indeed was three-forty-five. "You're a bit late, it's three-fifty."

"Damn," he dropped onto the floor on his bottom, taking a seat in the pavement. She had been surprised to hear the kid swearing, even with such a docile word compared to Gotham's youth's more e_xpressive _vocabulary. "I counted each minute, must have made a mistake…"

"You're a weirdo," she spoke as she pointed at him, slowly walking towards him. As she did, she assessed the situation. No one was there with him. He was alone, dead tired, and on time to their "meeting" as she had indicated. "Kid, you really have issues, huh?"

"Bruce."

"Wha-?"

"You know my name's Bruce, Cat," he looked up to her as he spoke, giving out a weary smile. For the first time in her life, she both liked and hated how someone spoke her nickname. It sounded so _off _to her coming from his lips. She decided it was best to ignore that feeling.

"So, _Bruce_…" now saying his name sounded off. "You actually want to learn about the, how did you say it, study those in Gotham who feel the need to break the law?"

"Yes, the criminal mind. You said you could show me a bit about how it's like for your side."

She exploded in laughter. His face was dumbstruck, but he didn't voice his confusion. He waited until she finished laughing, which took her a bit. She laughed, tried to stop, apologized, and then laughed again. It was, at the very least, the happiest he'd ever seen her, but he didn't practically like or understand her source of newfound joy.

"S-Sorry, it's just," she apologized again, in between laughs. "It's just that I can just picture this morning's Gotham Gazette. Headline: Rich boy found beaten to death behind a dumpster."

"I hope that's not the first lesson," since it did not sound funny to him.

She merely shook her head, the laughter finally culminating. "Nah, I… I can work something out. Okay, let's entertain this little idea of yours. Bruce Wayne, the boy who can understand any criminal!"

"Now you're just mocking me."

"No shit."

He seemed a bit surprised by her language, to which she just smiled. "Get used to that and more if you really want to do this, oh, and catch!"

She barely gave him time to follow her line of conversation before throwing his watch at him. He caught it, barely, and proceeded to look at the time. In only two minutes it would be four. He looked back at her, expectantly, but she shook her head again. "Nope, you're not getting anything else back until you earn them back."

"But they're mine!"

"First rule of the streets. Nothing is yours, you can take anything from anybody, and anybody can take anything from you. If you want this," she took out his wallet. "And this," she took out his phone. "…Back you're going to have to buy them from me. I'll be nice, $50 apiece, deal?"

"Fifty!" his shout caused her to giggle a bit, he seemed almost, almost cute in his disbelieving state.

"Yeah, a five followed by a cero. Now, listen up," she ignored his overly expressive gaze nearly turned into a glare. "You have, let's say, forty minutes to round up one-hundred dollars and bring them back here. If you don't, you ain't getting these back."

"Aren't."

"What?"

"Ain't isn't a word. It's aren't."

"I ain't giving a shit. Now go!"

He wanted to argue, to be against what she was "teaching" him, but he really couldn't. He had asked for this. To understand them, to be amongst them. Now he had the chance, and part of him wanted to know what it was like. Furthermore, she gave him a time limit. Forty minutes. Not that it mattered, since he had to be back home before six and given the amount of time it took him to get to Crime Alley he had better hurry.

-0-

Five minutes had passed, until he reached a moderately, for this hour at least, crowded area. A few people were out drinking, another group was busy chatting in a corner smoking something that did not look like cigarettes; and some very poorly dressed women were trying to strike conversation with the men around. It then hit him as hard as that time he fell into the well back at the mansion. He had no idea what to do.

Get $100 in forty, slash that, thirty-five minutes. How?

He knew she meant stealing, but how could he? How do you steal? He couldn't even begin to imagine how to do it. He has seen shows that both started thieves or shows about cops catching thieves, but actually crime was different. His first thought was to steal from the pub which those men were drinking in. But that would never work, there were too many guys (drunk or not) there and he would stick out like crazy between them. They'd see his intentions easily.

He then thought about stealing like Cat did. Stealing a purse or a wallet. But how did she do it? He never felt her hand, and he had had his wallet tucked in his side pocket, not the rear. She placed her hands inside both of his pockets (left for the wallet; right for the phone and gum) without him noticing and even took his watch (his WRIST watch) away without him noticing while they danced? He never even felt her hands leave his shoulder, much less rob him like she did.

He then noticed he had wasted three more minutes wondering about Cat and her little claws. Also, he saw a young woman approaching him. He involuntary stiffened.

"Hey," she spoke, passing her hand through his head. She smelt of booze and worse, and it made him uncomfortable just being near her. "Are you one of Stan's boys?" she asked, eyeing him. His mind was trying to register a response. "A bit on the young side, but I don't think they'll mind."

"Actually," he muttered, clearing his throat. He figured something at least. In the streets the connections you had made you who you are; so maybe he could cheat. "I'm here on Cat's behalf. We're looking for, erm, a gig. You know?"

"You're with Cat?"

"Yeah," he felt her tone shift, so the girl had street cred.

"He Bobbi," she turned to one of the men at the pub, a rather large one. "This brat knows were that bitch Kyle is at."

That did not sound good. Bruce forgot anything else he had wanted to learn from the criminal mind or anything like that. All that came to his mind was Alfred's stories about the war. And how effective a kick to the groin could be, regardless of gender.

He heard he curse as the kick connected, and as her grip on him loosened, he ran. He forgot about his fatigue, about how his feet ached, and he ran. He didn't even know where he ran too. Once he could no longer hear the woman's screams or the man's (or men's, he didn't bother to look) cursing at him he stopped, checked his surroundings, ran a bit more, then came to a halt.

The watch read 4:17.

Three more minutes passed until he was near other people "enjoying" Gotham's night life. They looked no better than the once before. This time, however, he learned from his mistakes. First, don't mention Cat. Or better yet, don't talk. Two, don't stand around like an idiot where everyone can see you clearly. Hide, find a target, then go out and try the theft. So he did just that.

He hid in an alley, scanning everyone.

Out of everyone in the area, which were a bit more than that last place, he found a potential victim. As he did, he felt a sting in his chest. The words "potential victim" did not sound good in his mind, especially since it was him who would turn the person into a victim. He swallowed hard, he had already thought it through; he couldn't backtrack now. So he moved.

He had it planned clearly in his mind.

Walk straight to the guy who was talking on his phone, standing a bit away from the group drinking and laughing which he seemed to have been with not three minutes ago. He was holding his phone with one hand, the other covering his mouth and the phone's receiver, likely to dull out the ambient noise. That left him defenseless; since his "buddies" were not looking in his direction, and furthermore, Bruce could see his wallet sticking out from his back pocket. Likely, the man had paid the last round of drinks, and had hastily put it away when his phone began to ring. Bruce swallowed hard.

And ran.

He knew he was not skilled enough to pull the wallet out without being noticed; much less caught as soon as he did. He could not be silent, but he could be fast.

As soon as Bruce was within arm's reach of the man, he pulled at the wallet. And he got it, along with the man's attention. "Hey, thief! Stop! Someone stop that kid!"

But he was too drunk to react on time, so Bruce had the advantage. He ran as fast as he could, figuring it could take him a few more turns until he lost him.

But then he came face to face with Jim Gordon.

Or rather, he saw Gordon coming out of a nearby store carrying some groceries. Bruce could not curse his luck anymore that he was currently since he foresaw what would happen.

"Stop that little thief!"

Which was exactly what happened.

Upon the robbed man's plea, Gordon sprang into action. He didn't ask any questions, just placed his groceries on the ground, told the man to "Wait here" and began to chase after Bruce. Bruce was hoping Gordon had not seen his face, hoping that the darkness would give him enough cover. But that didn't really matter.

A few drunks he could outrun.

Jim Gordon he couldn't.

So he improvised, Bruce threw himself under a parked truck, maneuvering in between the large wheels to have enough room to squeeze himself out of Gordon's reach. In a few second, Gordon's feet were visible from Bruce's point of view.

"Kid, you don't have to do this," it was a voice Bruce knew well. Calm, yet strict. He was offering Bruce a chance. To give himself up and do the right thing. Thankfully it meant Gordon hadn't recognized him. "Just come out, give me the wallet, and I promise you we can talk. I'm not just going to send you to juvie or something like that. I promise, but I need you to cooperate with me."

And under any other circumstance, he would agree wholeheartedly with Gordon. He was right, he was trustworthy. He would try to convince him, to show him the error of his ways, or he would if he weren't Bruce Wayne.

If he saw Bruce, he would shout, take him to Alfred, put this as an effect of Post Traumatic Disorder; then force Alfred to take him to therapy despite his protests. And he was beginning to think it could all be true.

But, he had to risk it.

"I-I can't!" he disguised his voice as best he could. It was the voice he used for his Fray Felipe action figure when he used to play with his dad. "I need this, o-or my dad will beat me to death!"

He felt Jim take a breath, wary but worried. He also felt himself stammer a bit, at the very idea of saying "dad" under such a horrible scenario. He knew it wasn't even his dad he was referring to, but it still felt wrong. "Listen kid, let me help. I've known a few kids out there with parents like that. And I know you feel that I'm lying and I can't help you, but just hear me out. There was this kid, who like you, had a father who-"

Now was his chance.

He crawled out of the truck as fast as he could, and ran towards a nearby alley. As expected, Gordon noticed. Gordon sprang after him, and at that moment, Bruce used his last trick at his disposal. He flung the wallet towards Gordon, who in reflex actually caught the thing, but took just enough time and lost just enough momentum to allow Bruce to speed like the devil and disappear from sight.

Gordon went back towards the man, not too surprised to see that his groceries where no longer there. "Where's my bags?"

"Who knows."

As Jim eyed him, he gave the man back his wallet. The man opened it, then turned to Gordon. "The hell? My money and license is gone. Where are they?"

"Who knows."

-0-

"What took you?"

Cat's sarcastic tone irked him even more now than it had before, but something told him he had to get used to it. She was looking at him, eyeing him from top to bottom, apparently wanting to ask him why he was covered with so much filth. "Circumstances," he answered the unasked question. "By the way, there are some people that hate you."

"Quite a few, actually," she said it so matter-of-factly that he could help but believe she had expected something like what happened to actually happen. "By the way," she continued. "Who's Julie Madison?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Julie? A friend. How do you-?"

"Oh, she called."

"What?"

"A friend, huh? Right… A friend does not call a boy at four-thirty to just chat. Plus, she sounded pretty interested in learning who I was."

"You answered my phone."

"Oh, yeah. It was ringing."

"But it has a code, they said it could be answered without the code."

"Huh? No one told me it was uncrackable," she smirked, proudly. He felt angrier. "So, is she your girlfriend?"

"No, no. She's a friend."

"Well, she has the hots for you; thought you might like to know that, since you seem to be dumb with girls," she sat down, on a nearby set of steps. He felt like fainting, but he was too mad to do so. "Anyways, do you have the money?"

He paused, breathing in for a moment. He proceeded to take out a few bills from his pocket. "Here's fifty-five dollars, enough for the wallet at least."

"Wallet? What about the phone."

"Keep it. Chat with Julie if you want. Just give me the wallet."

"…No."

"What?"

"I said no, that wasn't the deal," she stood up, and clenched his fists.

"The deal was fifty a piece! I'm giving you fifty-five for one piece!" as he spoke he saw that her smirk was every present. And he realized what it meant. She never meant to honor any deal. This would be lesson two. Never trust a thief. "Cat," his voice was lower. "Please, don't go back on that. Just the wallet, it was my father's, please."

Now he was scared, scared that he wouldn't get it back. She just eyed him. Then she moved towards him, before placing the wallet within arm's reach of him. As he moved to grab it she pulled it back. "Hey now, fifty-five…"

He nodded. As he gave her the cash, which she quickly counted, she gave him the wallet. Everything was there… except for his money. He didn't even voice it, since he had been expecting it anyways. As he turned back to her, she was smiling again. And it was then he noticed she had two new earrings she had not had on when he had met up with her earlier that morning. "So," Cat's voice echoed through the dark alley. "You wanna go home?"

"Yeah…" his voice sounded weak, broken even. She sighed, turning her back to him.

"Whatever kid, go home. I told you this wasn't something you could do. I'm surprised you didn't come back with-"

"I didn't mean it like that," he interrupted her. She stopped as he did. "If I'm not home by six," he continued. "…Alfred's going to handcuff me to bed every night until I'm eighteen. He won't agree with this, but I want to do this. I want to learn everything there is to learn about you," her eyes widened as he spoke, to which he added a "about people like you…".

"…And what exactly did you learn?"

"The thrill."

Her hug took him by surprise, since he never expected it nor was he awake enough to even realize she was hugging him until she had let go of him. "Oh my, the sheltered little boy actually has something in him. That's a good surprise. Okay, so let's set up another date, shall we?"

He just nodded, as she spoke. She told him that she would call him (at the mansion, using his phone), that she would tell him where to meet next and that he should continue to pay the phone bills if he wanted her to keep in contact with him. He nodded to everything.

"…And lastly, you need a nickname."

"Pardon?"

"Lose the fancy vocabulary. You hear something you don't understand, you say "what the hell did you say?" or something like it. And," she was pointing her index finger at him, like if he were an actual student. "What I mean is I can't call you Bruce or kid all the time. A rich orphan like you can't be seen around here, and calling you kid is just asking to get your ass whooped, so…" she paused, thinking. "Let's name you like me, after an animal."

"An animal, seriously? You haven't even told me your real name."

"Earn my name, for now, it's Cat. Now, let's think of an animal for you, one that suits you… maybe with wings…"

He was starting to wonder if she was ever going to tell him her name. "I think we're both well past the age of pretending to be animals, Cat…"

"Yeah, because you're so manly…"

He was going to argue, but he was too tired to even try. Then she clasped her hands together, producing a clapping sound. "Got it!" she announced, as he stared. "From now on, you'll be Cock Robin."

"…I don't think that's age appropriate."

"Why not, it's from a story, or poem, or something like that. Still an animal."

"Yes, a dead one. And it sounds, wrong, can't I be a wolf, or a shark, or a b-"

"You're Cock Robin, earn yourself a cooler nickname if you want," she turned and jumped, from the steps onto the fire escape and upwards. "You better get moving back home," her voice could be heard as she disappeared from sight. "Or else your butler will give you a spanking!"

He looked at the clock.

4:51

And he ran again.

-0-

By the time he reached Wayne Manor, the first few streaks of light were beginning to shine through, and the chill of the night was beginning to subside. He climbed through the window, the same way he came down, and took out the makeshift pillow as a distraction he had set up just in case. He managed to reach the mansion at six-o-seven, having cut short him best time by a bit. Stripping himself to his underwear, Bruce threw himself onto bed, before Alfred came inside.

"Morning Master Bruce," the butler spoke, as Bruce inwardly screamed, cried and laughed at the same time. "Apologies for having almost overslept, but duty calls. I've prepared your morning shower, so best to hop in. You are not going to be absent today as well, understood."

He had forgotten about school. Without any strength or willpower, Bruce just cocked his head towards Alfred's direction. "…Coming."

-0-

For David Thompson surprises weren't many. As a janitor for one of the worst places in Gotham, he had become used to bad luck

But today came the biggest of surprises. The biggest surprise was not his wife's arguments or his buddies teasing the hell out of him, since he had been too drunk to register it all properly. The biggest surprise came the day after the event, in the late afternoon (at around 4:30 to 5:00) when he went out to check his mail and stepped on an envelope on the floor. But that wasn't the biggest surprise.

The surprise was finding his license and one-hundred-and-ten dollars inside, alongside a small note:

"_Sorry for any inconveniences."_

* * *

><p>The Author Rants About:<p>

Selina Kyle

This version of her to be exact. Selina Kyle, the Cat, or Catwoman (whatever she wants to call herself) is my absolute favorite Batman character. Heck, she's probably my third favorite comic book character of them all (second place belongs to Aquaman; while my fave will always be the big blue). In here, she's just a kid (very street savvy, but still a kid) who is mostly in over her head. But if it's one thing you learn in the streets of Gotham, it's to survive. Selina Kyle is a survivor, and she has been one so long because she doesn't ever form attachments… So why does this rich little kid keep circling her mind?

Here, Cat is a mix between her comic persona (mostly her earlier appearances mixed with the Hush storylines, which I adore), the Tim Burton film (with a little of Rises in there) and of course her flirty nature from the Adam West show (heck, she alone makes the show watchable… well, her and the Riddler…), so yeah, she's a pretty big mix. But, as I write this, I find that Camren's Selina is a pretty unique take on her own. She's smart, funny ("diving board" comment made me laugh a lot), so I hope I can take her style and add more of it here. So what will happen? What does Selina get out of all of this? Find out, next time!

* * *

><p>The Author Responds To:<p>

**1.** nya mayaha nya: Thanks, and I am taking this places, erm, or something. One of the reasons why Selina is my favorite character in all the Batman mythos (a close second being Dick Grayson) is because of her complexity. She can be a villain, or a heroine. She can outsmart Batman, hold her own against the worst Gotham has to offer; yet never goes beyond the line. Ever since her first appearance, she's always been someone Bruce thinks he can save. Whether she wants to be or not is another matter…

**2.** TiffanyRance: Would you expect anything less?

**3.** darthmatthew: I'm glad you did! And, yeah, many people predicted Selina staying with Bruce, however short-lived it was. Wished she had stayed there longer…

**4.** Guest (#1): Thank you! And steal she did. Between a few expensive objects (which she returned) and a kiss (is it stealing when he doesn't mind?); she is a thief all right!

**5.** Guest (#2): I'm glad you think so and here is (was?) the update! The next one will be quicker, promise!

**6.** LisMaknae: Their interactions are pretty much the foundation of this story. Now that Bruce wants to learn more of her "world", they will be interacting quite a lot.

**7.** Solvdrage: Glad you are. And yeah, they'll be plenty of nods to his future as a crime-fighter here. I'll try to make them not as in-your-face as early Gotham episodes did, thou.

**8.** Guest (#3): You are also awesome my friend! Everything is awesome! So, thanks for that. That's quite the high praise, which I'm so grateful for. I've tried my hardest to keep my story like how I envision it while keeping both Bruce and Selina as close to Gotham's canon as I can. It's hard, since sometimes I just want to write something like ("Who do you think you are?" "I'm Batman"), but that's for much, much later.

**9.** alexisg200: Thanks! Their interactions are based on 75+ years of material, so it should seem believable. But thanks anyway for the praise my friend.

**10.** cokeerr: And here was more, with even more to come!

**11.** Flaw In The Logical Plantetoid: Thank you for the praise, I hope to never disappoint you!

**12.** Araytigre: The big deal to me with this story is just how much I adore the Bat/Cat pairing and the Batman stories in general. I wanted to just do my dream story come true and share it with other fans so they can enjoy. And Alfred is not going to enjoy this. Before Bruce has to convince him than putting on a bat costume is a sane idea; he's going to have to convince Alfred that he and Selina need to see each other (for learning about criminals and stuff…) And no, thank YOU for the support and the review. It's the best way to get in touch with fellow fans, so I hope you continue to tune in. Same Bat time, same Bat… url?

**13.** Dasha smith: Sorry for the late update, but here's more. Next chapter will be quicker!

**14.** Green Phire: Oh. My. God. You caught nearly every Easter Egg I hid there! First thing's first thou, thanks so much, so very much for the review. I found it so in depth that it honestly took me by surprise. I (as you can gather) am a very big fan of Bat/Cat (episodes 09 and 10 are my faves for this reason alone, even if 07 is a very good episode too) and it just felt right to add those traditions in here to make it feel more real. More like it could be a prequel to any of the Batman stories. So thank you, so very much for being so attentive and for taking the time to review. Hopefully, you've found this chapter entertaining and continue to read on. And again, thanks!

**15.** CircleInTheSand: Glad you do!

**16.** Guest (#4): I think she's a bit too old for that, isn't she?

**17.** alexisg200: Just did… Wait… you seem familiar…

**18.** ArmyWife22079: It's what she does, and he loves her for it!

**19.** james: Kudos!


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